iAm Just Like Frothy
by Random Storygirl
Summary: On a walk with her cat, Sam stops by Carly's apartment. While she doesn't find Carly herself, she does find out something important about her possible friendship with someone else...


**Author's Note: **I could give you guys this long string of excuses about how I haven't been writing because I've been focusing on summer work and this musical I'm in, but honestly, I just haven't felt like it. Sorry. But it's not like you even care. So yeah. I've had this idea for a few days, but like I said, didn't feel like writing it. I hope you like it, though. It was inspired by my cat. And this is a few days after iParty with Victorious, but before iOMG. :D

**Disclaimer: **You know that one TV show, iCarly? Yeah. I don't own that. It's just too bad. Aww…noodles!

**iAm Just Like Frothy**

"I'm very sorry ma'am," I apologized halfheartedly for the third time this afternoon, prying my cat off her head. Whenever I took Frothy for walks and she saw a woman with a dangly necklace, she just had to switch to attack mode. Unfortunately, Frothy often misjudges how high her leaps can be and usually ends up accidentally clawing at the woman's face as opposed to her jewelry. It was almost ironic how my three legged cat could jump higher than most others. But she was raised by Mama, and Mama knows how important physical dominance is to cats and so she approves of her aggressive behavior. But instead of cheering Frothy on aloud, I had to act remorseful on the outside.

"You should be!" the woman muttered, evidently infuriated. It was only a small cut on her left cheek, but she treated me as though I had just tried to strangle her, "You should learn how to control your animal!" She then pushed past me and briskly walked down the street, because that's the Seattle way. I stood there, my hands balled into fists, and looked down at Frothy. Her ears pointed backward and her back arched as she let out a spiteful hiss.

"Yeah, I hear ya," I mumbled, "She was just a prancy," I realized that it was odd to talk to your own cat, but since Pam was a pretty jank mother, Frothy was the family member I liked the most. And as crazy as this sounds, if she was a person, she would probably get me more than most people do. I gave her leash a strong yank and continued making my way through the city.

Okay, I know what you're thinking. Normal cats don't take walks. Well, Frothy certainly isn't your average cat. She has twice the energy of a small child who just drank five cans of Pink Bull and a relatively small area to let that energy out in my house. So if I don't walk her every other day…let's just say my mom will need to get another living room set from the junkyard. But it's okay. I like walking Frothy. It gives me time away from difficult homework assignments, lazy and desperate mothers, and nerdy and annoying Freddies, to just relax. The sights, smells, and sounds of downtown are calming to me rather than irritating. They remind me that progress is still being made somewhere, even though none was ever made in my house.

A sharp pain in my leg and a loud meow jolted me from my tranquil stroll. My eyes travelled to Frothy, who was hanging onto my calf by her claws. Her eyes seemed clouded with sadness. I knew exactly what that meant.

"Are you hungry, Frothy?" I crooned, bending down, "Let's get you some food!" I stopped to think. We ran out of cat food last week, and I just ate the last piece of meat in our house as a snack after school. I had no money to buy any food, and I sighed in frustration. Then I noticed that I was just a block away from Bushwell Plaza. I headed toward it, hoping that Carly had some meat in her house. I knew she wasn't home because she was studying with Gibby at the Groovy Smoothie. But she wouldn't mind if a steak or two was missing from her refrigerator when she got home. And heaven knows where Spencer is at any time. I heard him say something about playing racquetball with one of his friends from King County Prison, but I hoped it was an idea that he didn't put into action.

In the lobby, Lewbert gave me crap about Frothy, so I let her jump on the counter and he ran into his office, screaming. We took the elevator up and when the doors opened, I saw Freddie sitting on the couch watching the painfully boring TV show, "Celebrities Underwater". Curled up next to him was a morbidly obese animal of some sort.

"Umm…what is that?" I asked incredulously.

"Wade Collins drowning in a large tank of water," Freddie answered, not bothering to look at me. As if his eyes were too good to look at my face.

"Well, that hobknocker deserves it, but I was talking about that big ball of fur on the couch," I pointed to the white blob, and he followed my finger.

"Oh…that's my aunt's cat. We're taking care of him while she goes to a special hospital in Shelby,"

"Why is she going to the hospital?"

"That rash she had a few days ago came back and spread to her throat somehow. It blocked her airways and she has to get a type of surgery that few doctors know how to perform. But she'll be fine. There's only a five percent chance of complications, and less than one percent of people who have it…"

"Ugh…just stop talking!" I interrupted.

"Why?"

"You're boring," I told him plainly.

"Well then!" he muttered, turning his attention back to the television.

"Why are you here?" I interrogated, refusing to be ignored.

"My mom says cats are too dangerous to keep around the house at night, so she sent me over to introduce him to Carly and ask if he can sleep here," he explained.

"Nice, Benson. So what's its name? Fatty?"

"It's not my fault that my aunt over-feeds him!" he protested, "And his name is…Sir Twinkletoes," I started cracking up, scaring Sir Twinkletoes out of his slumber. The sudden movement caused Frothy to start foaming at the mouth. She always did that whenever something surprising happened.

"Why is Frothy here, anyway?" Freddie inquired, ignoring my laughter.

"I was taking her for a walk and she got hungry, so I came here to get her some food,"

"You walk your rabid three-legged cat in public?" he questioned in disbelief.

"You have a pimply butt?" I mocked him.

"And how would you know? Do you stalk me? Hide in my closet and watch me change?" he responded cynically. I opened my mouth to retort, but nothing came out.

"Whatever," I mumbled pathetically, avoiding his gaze, "I'm gonna search the freezer for some meat,"

"Do you know where Carly is?"

"Groovy Smoothie,"

"Do you think she'll be back soon?" His voice was hopeful, and I snorted. His crush on Carly was pitiable.

"Probably,"

"Then I guess I'll just wait here,"

"I don't care what you do!" I snapped, surprising myself. I didn't know where that came from. I found nothing in the freezer, but there was a can of tuna in the cabinet and I opened it and placed it on the floor by the couch for Frothy. She ran over to it and began devouring the smelly fish. I noticed Sir Twinkletoes perk up more when I opened the can and kept my eye on him as he hopped off the couch and slinked toward the food. When Frothy sensed him, she turned around and hissed loudly. Sir Twinkletoes skedaddled back to his spot. I heard Freddie chuckle.

"What? Did Wade Collins pass out?" I asked hopefully.

"No,"

"Then what?"

"It's your cat,"

"What about my cat?" I raised my eyebrows and prepared myself to punch him for his answer.

"It's just like you!" he mused, "Look at it!"

"Well, I did raise her to protect her property and eat while she can,"

"More like inhale all of the food in proximity," I couldn't argue with that.

"Well what about your cat?"

"It's not my cat!"

"Oh well. It's still like you,"

"How so?" he crossed his arms and mocked offense.

"Well, it's afraid of my cat,"

"I'm not afraid of your cat!"

"Yes you are!"

"Am not!"

"Don't lie, Benson! I saw you cringe when you saw her!"

"I wasn't cringing at her! I was cringing at you!"

"Well either way, you're a scaredy cat, just like Sir Twinkletoes!"

"Whatever," he muttered, reusing my feeble reply from earlier. I smiled, satisfied that I wasn't completely off with my comebacks today. I watched as Frothy finished her tuna in record time and then jumped on the couch, sniffed Freddie and Sir Twinkletoes, and snarled. Sir Twinkletoes leapt to the ground in fear, while Freddie scooted over to the other side of the sofa nervously. Frothy took Sir Twinkletoes' spot, curling up and purring contentedly.

"That's my girl!" I praised her almost lovingly.

"I think your relationship with your cat is better than your relationship with your mother," Freddie commented.

"Yeah. So?" I raised my eyebrows.

"That's not normal!" he remarked.

"Well neither are you, Mr. Antibacterial Underpants!" I shot back.

"I told you I stopped wearing those!" he defended.

"Yeah, just like you told Carly that you stopped ordering pants from tween pants .com," I scoffed.

"I did!"

"Well, we'll just have to check, won't we?" I smirked deviously.

"What do you mean?" he questioned uneasily. That's when I lunged for him, "Ah! Sam! What…what are you doing?" he shouted as I pinned him down on the couch. It was slowly getting more and more difficult to overpower him because of him working out more often, but he was still down in a matter of seconds. I noticed that Frothy's purring became louder at this sight, which made me giggle as I flipped him over, "No, Sam! Don't spank me again! My butt still has bruises!" he cried, trying to squirm away. I laughed harder as I grabbed the back of his pants. His eyes widened, "Not a Texas wedgie!" he choked out, absolutely terrified. But a second later, I jumped off of him triumphantly. He stared at me confused, before it dawned on him, "Holy crab! What did you put in my pants, Sam?"

"Nothing! Chill out, Freducation! I was checking the tag on your pants, and they are from tween pants .com. So ha!" I grinned.

"Oh…" Freddie said uncertainly, obviously surprised that I hadn't caused him a lot of physical pain, "Thank…you?" I nodded and he sat upright and allowed Sir Twinkletoes to jump into his lap, "You know, I don't think Carly wants Frothy on the couch,"

"Sir Twinkletoes is on the couch!" I retorted.

"Yeah, but your cat is rabid!"

"He's not rabid! He just…froths at the mouth,"

"And that doesn't make her rabid?"

"Not necessarily! My mother never paid a vet to confirm or deny it, so we can't be sure!" I explained.

"Aguacate," he muttered.

"Yeah, whatever. I'm gonna go home now. Adios, Fredible!" I saluted him, pulling on Frothy's leash to get her on her feet. But before I headed out the door, I noticed something on the TV, "Hey! Is that Kenan Thompson?" I asked.

"Yeah," Freddie answered, "First we saw him at the party, and now he's on our favorite TV show. It's weird!"

"Umm…your favorite TV show. I hate this sad excuse for entertainment. But…I wouldn't mind watching him almost drown," I corrected him, running back to the couch and laying down next to him, placing my feet on his shoulder.

"Thanks for your stench," he mumbled sarcastically, "Wait…is that Wahoo Punch?" his nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Probably. Still haven't washed 'em since I made Nevel drink from them." I shrugged.

"Oh gosh!" He exclaimed, turning his head away from me. We both watched wordlessly as Kenan stayed in the tank for ten minutes, but was still able to smile and wave at the camera and did not look uncomfortable at all. By then, I was bored out of my mind.

"Man, how does he hold his breath for so long?" I inquired incredulously.

"Maybe he practiced holding his breath in the bathtub for that one sketch from All That," he suggested.

"Oh my gosh! I remember that! And he taught the random French phrases and did that weird laugh!" I reminisced.

"Yeah," he chuckled.

"That was a great show,"

"Yeah. Much better than this one,"

"At least we agree on that,"

"Yeah, for once,"

"Do we also agree to change the channel to Girly Cow?" I asked in a mock French accent, holding up the remote.

"Why, of course, Princess Puckett!" he said in his cheesy English accent.

"You're such a dork!" I noted, pushing him on the shoulder as lightly as I could to make it seem playful rather than hateful. Once I had slapped him jokingly on the head and gave him a concussion. Since then, I have been sure to be extra careful with him.

"The dorkliest?" he questioned hopefully.

"Don't ruin it," There was silence for a moment, until I heard Freddie laugh to himself, "What's so funny?" I asked, half expecting him to make a remark about my ugly face or something.

"Look at Frothy and Sir Twinkletoes," I looked around and spotted them, in the corner playing together with a meatball.

"Whoa, is that left over from when we played meatball golf?"

"Probablemente. It looks dirtier than that swing set you licked," he observed, revolted.

"Aww…they look cute together. All fat and rabid next to each other," I smiled.

"Yeah. But now they look nothing like us," Freddie mentioned.

"Yeah…right," But as I thought about it for a second, and looked at him sitting so civilly right next to me with my feet on his shoulder, and recalled how we were talking almost like we were friends just a second ago, a voice in the back of my head told me that maybe he was wrong. Maybe we were exactly like them. And maybe that was okay once in a while. Because even though I was supposed to hate him and enjoyed insulting him, I still liked it best when we actually got along. Sometimes I even wish it would happen more often.

**Author's Note: **Wow. That took way longer to write than it was worth. It didn't turn out as well as I'd hoped, but I'm still posting it. I know it wasn't romantic or anything but real life isn't that way. It's complicated, imperfect, raw. And Seddie is that way, too. I put a lot of references in this to other iCarly episodes. Even an almost-reference to Drake and Josh! See if you can spot them all! Haha. I'm weird. Has anyone seen the Phineas and Ferb Movie? It was awesome. Yes, I am childish enough to love that show. Come at me, bro! And review, if you please! :D


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